Chained
by littlemsbookworm
Summary: A certain prisoner is about to recieve a familiar visitor. Semi-sequel to 'Alone'.


**As said in the description, this is a semi-sequel to my story 'Alone', although you don't need to read it to understand 'Chained'. Enjoy!**

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><p>The large steel doors that marked the entrance to London's Brixton prison usually opened for only two reasons: the first being to admit a new member to the already teeming amount of thieves, maniacs, and murderers, and the second to allow the passage of a coffin containing one of the inmates to be carried out. Once you went in, you never saw the outside world again. It was unspoken knowledge shared between the convicts that punishment was not only delivered through the prison itself with its tiny and rat infested cells, overcrowding, and the brutal treatment inflicted on prisoners, but also in the realization that they were completely alone. No one came, no one cared.<p>

It was because of this mentality that a flood of curious whispers made their way through Brixton when it was heard that one of the prisoners would be receiving a visitor, and the revelation that the lucky recipient was not just any run of the mill criminal made the news fly even faster. The convict in question was new, barely three months into his lifetime sentence. He was a young and thin man, and one who would in most cases be beaten and abused by his fellow inmates. However, none of the others dared even to make eye contact with this one. There was a cold, terrifying look in the man's eyes, and just the thought of what he had done to deserve his cell made even the most hardened criminal stop cold.

The day of the visit, every ear in Brixton was pricked to catch the sound of the opening door, which would mark the still unknown visitor's entrance. When the hinges finally opened with a loud creak, all eyes gazed in wonder at the small figure, flanked by two guards, making its way through the prison. It was a young woman, no older than sixteen; hands clasped tightly together, her face cast in shadow by the shawl wrapped over her head. Her posture and walk clearly defined her as a member of the well-to-do elite. She avoided the piercing stares, instead gazing directly ahead down the dim hallway. The whispers echoed off the walls as the girl and her escorts passed by each of the cells. Who was this woman, and why was she here? Surely no one of her social status would ever in their right mind be seen in this god forsaken place!

The murmurs faded into the blackness as the cells became less frequent, finally ending with only one at the very end of the hall. The three stopped in front of a rusted set of bars that separated them from the prisoner leaning against the stone wall inside the dark cell.

"4-1522-5!" One of the guards yelled, "Your visitor is here."

The man inside turned to face the guard, and the older man cringed at his deep glare.

"Leave." His voice was deceptively soft, but underneath there was a menacing edge. The guard started to retort, but was cut off.

"_Now_."

Both sentries glanced quickly at the girl between them and then at each other, then turned and walked quickly back where they had come from. The click of their boots finally died away, leaving the girl standing in silence. The prisoner slowly turned to face her, his cold glare morphing into an expression somewhere between curiosity and arrogance.

"Well, well, if it isn't my precious damsel in distress… "

"I'm not your anything! Don't talk to me as if you own me!" The man continued on, ignoring her outburst.

"Enjoying the show now the situation's reversed Flora? Pleased, now that the fanatical murderer who abducted you is locked away?"

"Clive…" Flora had taken off her shawl and was now wringing it like a dishtowel. Clive watched her frantic hands wrestle with it as he continued, his voice soft as silk and dripping with disdain.

"I was wondering when you would come, it does get _so lonely_ sitting here all by myself in my cell." As he spoke he stood, inching his way closer towards the bars and towards Flora. "Nevertheless, I've almost come to enjoy having a life sentence. It gives me time to…reflect. But then," he smiled at her, "I don't regret anything I did in the slightest, so what does it matter?"

"You…you heartless bastard!"

Flora was as shocked as he when she reached through the bars and slapped him hard across the face. She looked back and forth between her hand and him, hardly believing what she had just done.

Across from her, Clive gingerly felt the reddening spot on his cheek, his eyes containing that same unreadable expression she had seen in them once before.

"Layton and his brat really do underestimate you, don't they? I'm sure they've never thought you capable of that."

"I didn't come here to discuss the professor or," she stressed the name, "_Luke_."

"Then what did you come here to converse about? This place is known for its infrequency of visitors, so there must be a very good reason you left your precious professor and came here by yourself." He paused for a moment, contemplating. "I think I know what it is."

A look of confusion flashed across Flora's face. "You do?" In truth, she herself couldn't place the exact reason she had made the trek across London to come to Brixton. All she knew was that something kept her mind constantly flitting back to the man now standing in front of her, and finally she gave in and slipped out of the house to come to the prison, hoping that once she was there she would figure out just what was making her feel so strange.

"You love me."

"W-what? No! No that's not it at all!" _He's a murderer! He killed all those people…and he doesn't even care! He feels nothing!_ But despite what her mind and mouth were screaming, Flora could feel her cheeks growing hot and something deep down inside wanted to agree with what Clive had stated. But before she could sort her conflicting thoughts the convict spoke again, leaning against the bars that separated the two.

"I do believe it is. Why else would you be here? You've always felt something for me, you did three months ago and you still do now." As he spoke, he reached out and pulled out the red ribbon that held Flora's hair in its perpetual ponytail. Her auburn hair fell, gently framing her face with its soft curls.

"I've always wondered what you would look like with your hair down." Clive said, pulling the ribbon out of Flora's grasp as she made to snatch it back, her face now red enough to rival a ripe tomato. "You're quite lovely."

"…"

"Do you remember what I told you the last time we spoke?" He asked softly.

_You will be mine, whether you choose it or not…_

"I still mean what I said, even under the present circumstances. I do hate to indulge in clichés, but whether you come to terms with it or not Flora, you and I are bound together."

"How can I believe that, knowing what you've done? Even the other prisoners are terrified of you; I heard the whispers! They call you a demon, and I'm supposed to believe you love me?" Yet even as she spoke she could feel a weight lifting off her chest because of his words.

"Every demon was once an angel and still posses the capability to return to that state, if they so desire. Besides," he said, twirling her ribbon, "You yourself are not faultless. You would be bored with a man who was a _perfect gentleman_."

"Stop talking like that."

"Like what?" he said lazily, still looking at the ribbon.

"Like you know me."

"Ah but I do know you, Flora Reinhold. I know all about you. What you love, what makes you tick. What makes you who you are. I did my research well. But there is still so much more you can tell me. So much more you can give me. And I think you will."

Flora took a deep breath, trying for one last time to stop the words that so desperately wanted to be spoken.

"Clive…I-" her confession was drowned out as a shrill bell rang six times, its peals echoing loudly down the cellblock. Flora gasped.

"Six o'clock! I have to go- the professor's going to be wondering where I am!" Having left no note or means of explanation as to where she was headed, Layton would no doubt be quite concerned of her whereabouts when he arrived home to find the house empty.

With one final glance, she turned and began to walk quickly back down the shady hallway, but a soft voice called her back.

"Flora..."

"What?"

"You forgot your ribbon." He held the red silk out between the bars, but she made no move to take it back. Instead, a small smile flickered across her face.

"Keep it. Now I have a reason to come back." She turned away, and disappeared into the darkness.

Clive looked down at the ribbon in his hands, and realized he was smiling as well.

It seemed that Brixton would be receiving one particular visitor much more recurrently from now on.


End file.
